The Irish standard., 1887-09-24
CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XIV.
Brian Purcell sat alone by the fire in
the old-fashioned parlor. He thought OF
many things; but that peculiar look
with which she regarded HIM, while he1
hand rested on his shoulder, haunted
him still. He was FIR from being q cox
comb; but he could not help thinlIins 8
that her look had that dreamy fondness
in it which is never seen In u woman s
eyes except when they are Den5 upon
the man she loves. Yet when he re-
tlectct1 upon her conduct since the first
moment CT her becoming all heiress. he
pronounced the notion that she loved
him still M utter delusion.
Perhaps he thought, the hill and
the scene all arount: us carried her back
to the past, and Tor IL moment she may
have been the Jane Evans whom /
knew and loved
He saw the fair Young face softened
into loveliness. too perfect for earth, by
the grief and pity which made hel'
bosom heave, and her beautiful eyes
swim in tears, as he read of the poor
school masters sorrow. Tn inagina~
tion be saw her SO; and who blame Brian
Purcell for sighing a regretful sigh:
He naturally thought of the letter he
read III the evening on the rock OF
Knockc!ough. He took the letter from
his pockeJ, and read it second time,
For the last years, scarcely a day has
passed that { have not determined to
write to you next clay, But [ always
saw, or fancied saw, some good reason
for delaying che fulGllment Of my
promise yet another day. The monot
ony OF my life, however, has just basn
varied q little by meeting accidently
with an cid friend; and this has reused
me to do what / nave been SO long
thinking Of doing. am writing in nay
own little wooden house far away on
The lonesome prairie. On last Sunday,
dis I was returning home after having
heard mass ut a little village thirty
miles from where [ live, / saw nlan
lying Oh the ground by the side of the
road. His aruls were resting upon a
box, and his face buried between his
hands. x fine little boy lay near him
asleep, with tile man IS coat folded under
his head. at tonce saw they were i'm"
migrants from Ireland, who had left
the railway, and were proceeding on
foot to some village or farmhouse in
this neighborhood.
God save You, I called out, pulling
up my horse at the same time.
God save you kindly he replied,
raising his head and looking at me.
'Connor Shear I exclaimed; surely
you are Conner Shea?'
That's my name, sure enough said
he. But you have the advantage OF
me-
'Imust. be indeed altered remarked,
when my old friend Connor Shea does
not know me-
when I told him my name, he start
ed to his feet, and was fastening to-
wards me. But as he advanced l saw
him reel and stagger, and before I could
dismount and come to his assistance,
he fell heavily to the ground. The boy
told ne that for several days back his
father had eaten nothing but few
grapes which a lady had given him; l
at once concluded that Connor Shea
had the fever. Fortunately my house
was not far off, and after bathing bis
temples and getting him to swallow a
cooling drought, he was able to mount
my horse, and half an hours slow walk
ing brought us to the door. The poor
fellow is now free from fever, but it
will be some days before be will be
strong enough to go to work. He .begs
that you will not let his wife know Of
his illness. Neddy is fine fellow. and
his father has consented to leave him
under my care. This is a great boon,
to me, particularly during winter, when
all out. door work is suspended here. [
hope to have Neddy sufficiently ad-
vanced to have him bound to some re-
spectacle business in the course Of next
year. Connor has given me a full ac-
count Of the neighbors, since I left
home. Alas for poor = Irelandl And q \